This is a pic of a guy from the BBC series, "HEX". In the series, he plays an angel named Azazael.Though I'm not sure if I could use him as an angel, I have to use him for someone in Metro.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Character Pic
This is a pic of a guy from the BBC series, "HEX". In the series, he plays an angel named Azazael.Though I'm not sure if I could use him as an angel, I have to use him for someone in Metro.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Kindred vs Vampires
In the world of Metro there are two kinds of "Vampires", the Kindred and the Vampires.
Kindred appear human and can exist with limited exposure to sunlight.
Kindred saliva is hallucinogenic and will often lull their victims into a euphoric, painless state while feeding.
Vampires are undead - having gone through bloody, Red Rites to return as something more than Human. Their skin is ashen gray, they loose their hair and their fingers will slightly elongate to give them a monstrous appearance.
Vampiric saliva is paralytic, immobilizing their victims temporarily so that they can feed.
Kindred appear human and can exist with limited exposure to sunlight.
Kindred saliva is hallucinogenic and will often lull their victims into a euphoric, painless state while feeding.
Vampires are undead - having gone through bloody, Red Rites to return as something more than Human. Their skin is ashen gray, they loose their hair and their fingers will slightly elongate to give them a monstrous appearance.Vampiric saliva is paralytic, immobilizing their victims temporarily so that they can feed.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Thomas Book - Fragment
This is a fragment that shows pacing of the first Chronicle of Thomas Book.
THE MIDNIGHT MARKET
The Midnight Market is the Black Market of the Supernatural World of Metro; Black Magic Market. It's location is kept secret and travels around the confines of Metro - never appearing in the same place twice. It is called the Midnight Market because it only exists for one hour.
It is almost like a Rave in that those buying and selling will suddenly appear in a secret location, do their business and then as the hour strikes one a.m., they vanish.
The Council and other members of the Eastern Conclave have been trying trying to find and close such markets for decades but they seem to pop up and operate even in the face of dutiful Sheriffs and Wardens.
To traffic in (buy or sell) items found within the Midnight Market is generally grounds for a Summons to Court as this almost always involves infernal magic.
THE TWILIGHT MARKET
The Twilight Market is the Metro version of Diagon Alley from Harry Potter. It is in a fixed location (opposite the Midnight Market) in the Underground with shops and stalls of various sort. The Twilight Market sits inside a huge, vaulted cavern somewhere below Metro. There are many ways to get there and get back but the paths are often hazed or fogged with shadows and illusion magic to blind them to Mundanes.
With the plethora of candles and crystal lamps, the whole market has a twilight haze to it. Anything and everything one can imagine that would be of magical need to the Supernatural world can usually be found here.
KEEPER OF THE KEY
The Key is an object (thinking a medallion or disk of some sort) that is found using the map that is the cover of the Red Journal.
The Red Journal is the book that Wyck delivered to Book at the request of Mouse - who stole it from Iago for "Evil Bad Guy".
((Evil Bad Guy, we will eventually find out, is actually the former Sheriff for Metro who went Infernal years ago. He sent one man after Book (who ended up killing Natalya in the crossfire) a year ago and then recently sends Marco to try it again. Evil Bad Guy (EBG) is also the same person who kills Uncle Julian after Julian discovers his identity.))
The Key is a powerful artifact that the Council immediately would snatch up since it's just too powerful to leave out there on the 'Street'. It calls to certain people and whispers to them. It has a will of its own. It is Metro's version of one of the Rings of Power (LOTR); not THE ring of power, just one of them.
EBG
((Evil Bad Guy, we will eventually find out, is actually the former Sheriff for Metro who went Infernal years ago. He sent one man after Book (who ended up killing Natalya in the crossfire) a year ago and then recently sends Marco to try it again. Evil Bad Guy (EBG) is also the same person who kills Uncle Julian after Julian discovers his identity.))
EBG is still around - though more in a sagely capacity, helping people live comfortable lives. He would strike you as a Gandalf or a Dumbledoor by day and an Emperor Palpatine by night.
Julian discovers just how dark EBG is while he was also trafficing in the Black before he died.
EBG's presence will be felt for several books until there is a showdown between he and Book later on. Book will learn that it was EBG who killed Julian and will want the payback, Evil Willow style.
THE RIDDLE
The Red Journal is only translated partially by the "Map Guy" in the Twilight Market. The one page that was translated before the Vampires approach is a fragment of a riddle:
"with Seven Wings and Seven Rings and Seven Stars Under Heaven."
Every seven pages in the journal the languages shifts. There are seven identified languages in the book and the pattern is fairly consistent. The languages vary ancient Greek, Shadowkin, Troll, ancient Elvish, etc.
Mostly they are languages of peoples of crumbled kingdoms.
WYCK KIDNAPPED
Wyck and Book have a falling out when Book thinks that Wyck has been stealing from him.
Wyck calls Nugget from the metro station near Book's house. He is heading to the 'Nest' and plans to crash with her for a few days until things blow over with Book. Wyck never arrives. He is grabbed by two Vampires at a stop before the Nest (where Nugget is waiting for him).
((Nugget's older brother disappeared similarly 2 years ago on his way home from working at the Neverland Cafe'))
Wyck is held captive (molested, fed upon) for three days by the Vampire Iago who is searching for information on the "Key".
Nugget demands information from Book - who has no idea where Wyck went after leaving his place.
Wyck, under the power of Iago's mesmerism, says that the 'Nest' is the location of the "Key".
MARCO VS. THOMAS
Marco, a newly appointed Warden of the Conclave, uses an infernal sigil to try and kill Thomas.
Thomas, using his unorthodox method of redirecting magic, accepts the infernal bolt of balefire and redirects it back at Marco - killing him instantly.
Nugget, arriving at the mouth of the alley where Marco and Thomas are fighting, only sees Thomas redirect the infernal bolt and assumes that Thomas cast it rather than redirect.
Thomas, turning to see Nugget springing to attack him, silences her with a 'Shhh' spell.
Nugget runs to the Neverland Cafe' to tell Darcy that Thomas cast the whammy on her. She tells her that she saw Thomas cast "a ball of green fire" at a guy and kill him.
Darcy and Duke Sin, who overheard the conversation, go investigate the alley. Duke Sin immediately senses the presence of Infernal magic and leaves the scene. Darcy sees and sketches the sigil that has been burned into the man's right palm.
Darcy contacts Heather Coffee for info on the Sigil. The only reference Coffee can find is that another man was found with the same mark one year ago - around when Natalya died.
The next morning, Book has a warrant issued out on him by the Sheriff (secretly Duke Sin) for his involvement in the death of a Warden (Marco).
RESCUE WYCK
The next night, Book is contacted by Augur, the blind Seer, that Wyck needs him and can be found at a specific point in the city.
((Augur offers the information to repay an earlier, undisclosed, debt))
Wyck finally is able to snap the rusted bedsprings and escapes down a drainage grate - leaving at least five other people who are held captive with him.
Wyck falls down into a sewage / drainage stream and floats along for a while until he manages to grab ahold of a ladder set into the wall and climbs up forever. He eventually pushes aside a manhole cover and is found by Book.
Pouring Wyck into his jeep, Book takes him back to the firehouse and cleans him up.
DELIVERING A WARRANT
With Wyck resting, Book waits for word of his return to the firehouse to reach the Sheriff on the second floor balcony. Coffee arrives and displays the "Mark of the Herald" (blue glyph on the back of her hand visible to magic-folk) to signify that she's there on business.
Book lets Coffee into the house and she discovers that he's rigged the house's defenses to repell a magical seige. Every ward is activated, every counter-attack is armed. He's playing jazz - to calm him down and let him think. It's the same Jazz he listened to when Natalya died.
Coffee listens to the whole story but is duty-bound to deliver the Warrant and escort Book to the Court to answer the charges. Rather than leaving the Firehouse, and put himself at the mercy of every one on the street who would attack him for the warrant (sometimes considered a bounty) or for information on "The Key" - Coffee pulls the Court to them (virtually) through the various mirrors on the walls with Sir William's help.
COURT
Coffee has information about the Infernal Sigil that was used one year ago against Natalya. It is enough to remove that stain from Book's name for Marco's death. Marco, using infernal magic, was guilty of violating one of the laws of magic and Book was just in defending himself against it with lethal force.
ATTACKED
Before the Court can get into the crux of the matter with Book, but after he was cleared of the more serious charge of Infernalism, the firehouse comes under attack.
Vampires, under the command of Iago, have attacked whatever street-folk who were watching to see if Book would emerge. This is the supernatural equivalent of having the police surrounding a place and having sent in negotiators. With a few dead at the rear of the house, the others scatter for the cafe' or the metro line.
Coffee, who has "officially" delivered the summons, can not 'arrest' Book; only Wardens of the Sheriff can do that. With the attack, the connection tho the Court is broken.
Wyck is too sick and injured to travel far and so Coffee tells Book to take him to the Sisters. As a Herald, she can't help or hinder him - but she can help Wyck.
((Three old witches who are part of the House of Avalon. They have a "House of Healing" on the opposite side of town))
Book gets Wyck to down a shot of 'Super Coffee' so he can walk and the two escape out Book's basement and through the tunnels that eventually lead to the Boardwalk.
DESTRUCTION OF THE NEST
((Not sure where this fits))
Nugget returns to the Nest where her and a few friends have squatted. It's not much but it's dry, warm and usually out of the sight of anyone who would do them harm. They have to be careful about letting anyone see them sneak into the place for fear that they will be discovered (by the police or other forces) so she has to take a weird way in.
Late at night, she climbs up the fire escape of a nearby building and then crossing the roof to shinny down to a ledge and then cross a gap that's bridged by a pirate-like, plank-bridge to another building. From there she can enter through a sky-light.
At some point in the process of her entering the squat, she picks up that there's something wrong. When she enters the squat she sees that the other four friends are all dead; slaughtered. As she tries to escape, a Vampire, still feeding on one of her friends in another room - hears her and tries to attack. She manages to kick his hand free and climb out onto the roof.
The plank-bridge isn't designed for combat or quick escapes so she ends up falling from it to the alley below as the Vampire follows her.
((2 stories down. Enough to screw her up for a while but not kill her. ))
The Vampire jumps down on top of her but ends up stabbing himself with a stake and ashes himself.
Wyck, Book or someone find her and take Nugget to the Sisters (of the House of Avalon) where she heals up and pledges herself to become a full-fledged vampire-hunter complete with bow and arrow. This, however, is another story.
THE MIDNIGHT MARKET
((Not sure where this fits either))
Coffee or Book would have reason to try and find the Midnight Market as part of an on-going research for the origin of this very powerful Infernal Sigil that not only destroys the caster but also consumes their soul in the process. By using all of this power it normally rips through normal magical shields and thus ensures the immediate death of its intended victim.
Book can't be seen investigating this matter as his earlier involvement has put him on the Sheriff's "Watch List". Any suspect behavior would result in his imprisonment, death or ostracism.
= = BACK STORY = =
THE MIDNIGHT MARKET
The Midnight Market is the Black Market of the Supernatural World of Metro; Black Magic Market. It's location is kept secret and travels around the confines of Metro - never appearing in the same place twice. It is called the Midnight Market because it only exists for one hour.
It is almost like a Rave in that those buying and selling will suddenly appear in a secret location, do their business and then as the hour strikes one a.m., they vanish.
The Council and other members of the Eastern Conclave have been trying trying to find and close such markets for decades but they seem to pop up and operate even in the face of dutiful Sheriffs and Wardens.
To traffic in (buy or sell) items found within the Midnight Market is generally grounds for a Summons to Court as this almost always involves infernal magic.
THE TWILIGHT MARKET
The Twilight Market is the Metro version of Diagon Alley from Harry Potter. It is in a fixed location (opposite the Midnight Market) in the Underground with shops and stalls of various sort. The Twilight Market sits inside a huge, vaulted cavern somewhere below Metro. There are many ways to get there and get back but the paths are often hazed or fogged with shadows and illusion magic to blind them to Mundanes.
With the plethora of candles and crystal lamps, the whole market has a twilight haze to it. Anything and everything one can imagine that would be of magical need to the Supernatural world can usually be found here.
KEEPER OF THE KEY
The Key is an object (thinking a medallion or disk of some sort) that is found using the map that is the cover of the Red Journal.
The Red Journal is the book that Wyck delivered to Book at the request of Mouse - who stole it from Iago for "Evil Bad Guy".
((Evil Bad Guy, we will eventually find out, is actually the former Sheriff for Metro who went Infernal years ago. He sent one man after Book (who ended up killing Natalya in the crossfire) a year ago and then recently sends Marco to try it again. Evil Bad Guy (EBG) is also the same person who kills Uncle Julian after Julian discovers his identity.))
The Key is a powerful artifact that the Council immediately would snatch up since it's just too powerful to leave out there on the 'Street'. It calls to certain people and whispers to them. It has a will of its own. It is Metro's version of one of the Rings of Power (LOTR); not THE ring of power, just one of them.
EBG
((Evil Bad Guy, we will eventually find out, is actually the former Sheriff for Metro who went Infernal years ago. He sent one man after Book (who ended up killing Natalya in the crossfire) a year ago and then recently sends Marco to try it again. Evil Bad Guy (EBG) is also the same person who kills Uncle Julian after Julian discovers his identity.))EBG is still around - though more in a sagely capacity, helping people live comfortable lives. He would strike you as a Gandalf or a Dumbledoor by day and an Emperor Palpatine by night.
Julian discovers just how dark EBG is while he was also trafficing in the Black before he died.
EBG's presence will be felt for several books until there is a showdown between he and Book later on. Book will learn that it was EBG who killed Julian and will want the payback, Evil Willow style.
= = MAIN STORY - IN ORDER OF EVENTS = =
THE RIDDLE
The Red Journal is only translated partially by the "Map Guy" in the Twilight Market. The one page that was translated before the Vampires approach is a fragment of a riddle:
"with Seven Wings and Seven Rings and Seven Stars Under Heaven."
Every seven pages in the journal the languages shifts. There are seven identified languages in the book and the pattern is fairly consistent. The languages vary ancient Greek, Shadowkin, Troll, ancient Elvish, etc.
Mostly they are languages of peoples of crumbled kingdoms.
WYCK KIDNAPPED
Wyck and Book have a falling out when Book thinks that Wyck has been stealing from him.
Wyck calls Nugget from the metro station near Book's house. He is heading to the 'Nest' and plans to crash with her for a few days until things blow over with Book. Wyck never arrives. He is grabbed by two Vampires at a stop before the Nest (where Nugget is waiting for him).
((Nugget's older brother disappeared similarly 2 years ago on his way home from working at the Neverland Cafe'))
Wyck is held captive (molested, fed upon) for three days by the Vampire Iago who is searching for information on the "Key".
Nugget demands information from Book - who has no idea where Wyck went after leaving his place.
Wyck, under the power of Iago's mesmerism, says that the 'Nest' is the location of the "Key".
MARCO VS. THOMAS
Marco, a newly appointed Warden of the Conclave, uses an infernal sigil to try and kill Thomas.
Thomas, using his unorthodox method of redirecting magic, accepts the infernal bolt of balefire and redirects it back at Marco - killing him instantly.
Nugget, arriving at the mouth of the alley where Marco and Thomas are fighting, only sees Thomas redirect the infernal bolt and assumes that Thomas cast it rather than redirect.
Thomas, turning to see Nugget springing to attack him, silences her with a 'Shhh' spell.
Nugget runs to the Neverland Cafe' to tell Darcy that Thomas cast the whammy on her. She tells her that she saw Thomas cast "a ball of green fire" at a guy and kill him.
Darcy and Duke Sin, who overheard the conversation, go investigate the alley. Duke Sin immediately senses the presence of Infernal magic and leaves the scene. Darcy sees and sketches the sigil that has been burned into the man's right palm.
Darcy contacts Heather Coffee for info on the Sigil. The only reference Coffee can find is that another man was found with the same mark one year ago - around when Natalya died.
The next morning, Book has a warrant issued out on him by the Sheriff (secretly Duke Sin) for his involvement in the death of a Warden (Marco).
RESCUE WYCK
The next night, Book is contacted by Augur, the blind Seer, that Wyck needs him and can be found at a specific point in the city.
((Augur offers the information to repay an earlier, undisclosed, debt))
Wyck finally is able to snap the rusted bedsprings and escapes down a drainage grate - leaving at least five other people who are held captive with him.
Wyck falls down into a sewage / drainage stream and floats along for a while until he manages to grab ahold of a ladder set into the wall and climbs up forever. He eventually pushes aside a manhole cover and is found by Book.
Pouring Wyck into his jeep, Book takes him back to the firehouse and cleans him up.
DELIVERING A WARRANT
With Wyck resting, Book waits for word of his return to the firehouse to reach the Sheriff on the second floor balcony. Coffee arrives and displays the "Mark of the Herald" (blue glyph on the back of her hand visible to magic-folk) to signify that she's there on business.
Book lets Coffee into the house and she discovers that he's rigged the house's defenses to repell a magical seige. Every ward is activated, every counter-attack is armed. He's playing jazz - to calm him down and let him think. It's the same Jazz he listened to when Natalya died.
Coffee listens to the whole story but is duty-bound to deliver the Warrant and escort Book to the Court to answer the charges. Rather than leaving the Firehouse, and put himself at the mercy of every one on the street who would attack him for the warrant (sometimes considered a bounty) or for information on "The Key" - Coffee pulls the Court to them (virtually) through the various mirrors on the walls with Sir William's help.
COURT
Coffee has information about the Infernal Sigil that was used one year ago against Natalya. It is enough to remove that stain from Book's name for Marco's death. Marco, using infernal magic, was guilty of violating one of the laws of magic and Book was just in defending himself against it with lethal force.
ATTACKED
Before the Court can get into the crux of the matter with Book, but after he was cleared of the more serious charge of Infernalism, the firehouse comes under attack.
Vampires, under the command of Iago, have attacked whatever street-folk who were watching to see if Book would emerge. This is the supernatural equivalent of having the police surrounding a place and having sent in negotiators. With a few dead at the rear of the house, the others scatter for the cafe' or the metro line.
Coffee, who has "officially" delivered the summons, can not 'arrest' Book; only Wardens of the Sheriff can do that. With the attack, the connection tho the Court is broken.
Wyck is too sick and injured to travel far and so Coffee tells Book to take him to the Sisters. As a Herald, she can't help or hinder him - but she can help Wyck.
((Three old witches who are part of the House of Avalon. They have a "House of Healing" on the opposite side of town))
Book gets Wyck to down a shot of 'Super Coffee' so he can walk and the two escape out Book's basement and through the tunnels that eventually lead to the Boardwalk.
DESTRUCTION OF THE NEST
((Not sure where this fits))
Nugget returns to the Nest where her and a few friends have squatted. It's not much but it's dry, warm and usually out of the sight of anyone who would do them harm. They have to be careful about letting anyone see them sneak into the place for fear that they will be discovered (by the police or other forces) so she has to take a weird way in.
Late at night, she climbs up the fire escape of a nearby building and then crossing the roof to shinny down to a ledge and then cross a gap that's bridged by a pirate-like, plank-bridge to another building. From there she can enter through a sky-light.
At some point in the process of her entering the squat, she picks up that there's something wrong. When she enters the squat she sees that the other four friends are all dead; slaughtered. As she tries to escape, a Vampire, still feeding on one of her friends in another room - hears her and tries to attack. She manages to kick his hand free and climb out onto the roof.
The plank-bridge isn't designed for combat or quick escapes so she ends up falling from it to the alley below as the Vampire follows her.
((2 stories down. Enough to screw her up for a while but not kill her. ))
The Vampire jumps down on top of her but ends up stabbing himself with a stake and ashes himself.
Wyck, Book or someone find her and take Nugget to the Sisters (of the House of Avalon) where she heals up and pledges herself to become a full-fledged vampire-hunter complete with bow and arrow. This, however, is another story.
THE MIDNIGHT MARKET
((Not sure where this fits either))
Coffee or Book would have reason to try and find the Midnight Market as part of an on-going research for the origin of this very powerful Infernal Sigil that not only destroys the caster but also consumes their soul in the process. By using all of this power it normally rips through normal magical shields and thus ensures the immediate death of its intended victim.
Book can't be seen investigating this matter as his earlier involvement has put him on the Sheriff's "Watch List". Any suspect behavior would result in his imprisonment, death or ostracism.
Thomas Book: Timeline
This is going to be where I post the known dates for the Chronicles of Thomas Book (as opposed to the Journals of James Blackthorn, the Steam-Pulp character).
1976, June - Child (male, unnamed) stillborn to Daniel and Margarette Book.
1976, August - Thomas Book born to Julian (name?) and Lucette. Lucette dies in child birth.
1976, September (6 days after birth) - Julian leaves Thomas with his sister and her husband and leaves to deal with the death of his fiance.
1976-1994 - Julian occasionally visits Margarette and Daniel (and Thomas) and presents himself as Thomas' uncle. Thomas and Julian exchange letters regularly. Julian often sends Thomas post-cards from his travels.
1994, September - Thomas enrolls at Harvard University to study Archaeology.
1998, September - Thomas is accepted into a small, paleography (ancient writing) program at Poague University (Ashland Kentucky - prior to creation of Metro)
1999, "Winter" - Thomas gets a new roommate, Alex Saunders - an undergraduate in Photography.
1999, "Spring" - Thomas meets Raymond, Nugget's older brother, through Alex.
2001, "Winter" - Thomas parents, Margarette and Daniel, die in a head-on car wreck.
2001, "Spring" - Julian moves his business from New Orleans to the newly thriving city of 'Metro'.
2001, "Summer" - Thomas starts to work for Julian as an 'agent' to identify, appraise, buy and sell rare books.
2002 - 2003 - Thomas travels throughout the US and into Europe on "buying trips".
2003, "Spring" - Julian dies of a "heart attack" while Thomas is in London. Julian actually dies of an infernal curse. No body is found - only remains.
2003, "Summer" - Thomas takes over Julian's business and inherits the fire house (with bookstore below).
2003, "Fall" - Thomas discovers Julian's secret and starts to learn magic from Julian's journals and the House spirit, Sir William.
2006, "Spring" - Thomas meets Natalya Poriskaya on a case of demonic possession.
2006, "Summer" - Thomas meets Natalya again and they begin to date.
2007, "Winter" - Thomas asks Natalya to marry him, but this starts a huge problem between the Gypsy families and Thomas. Wizards and Gypsies are in the middle of a supernatural cold war and so the engagement is called off (at least publically).
2007, "Spring" - Natalya is killed in the cross-fire between Thomas and a man using Infernal magic.
2008, Spring - Mouse, Natalya's younger brother, jumps off a four-story building and dies.
(story begins)
1976, June - Child (male, unnamed) stillborn to Daniel and Margarette Book.
1976, August - Thomas Book born to Julian (name?) and Lucette. Lucette dies in child birth.
1976, September (6 days after birth) - Julian leaves Thomas with his sister and her husband and leaves to deal with the death of his fiance.
1976-1994 - Julian occasionally visits Margarette and Daniel (and Thomas) and presents himself as Thomas' uncle. Thomas and Julian exchange letters regularly. Julian often sends Thomas post-cards from his travels.
1994, September - Thomas enrolls at Harvard University to study Archaeology.
1998, September - Thomas is accepted into a small, paleography (ancient writing) program at Poague University (Ashland Kentucky - prior to creation of Metro)
1999, "Winter" - Thomas gets a new roommate, Alex Saunders - an undergraduate in Photography.
1999, "Spring" - Thomas meets Raymond, Nugget's older brother, through Alex.
2001, "Winter" - Thomas parents, Margarette and Daniel, die in a head-on car wreck.
2001, "Spring" - Julian moves his business from New Orleans to the newly thriving city of 'Metro'.
2001, "Summer" - Thomas starts to work for Julian as an 'agent' to identify, appraise, buy and sell rare books.
2002 - 2003 - Thomas travels throughout the US and into Europe on "buying trips".
2003, "Spring" - Julian dies of a "heart attack" while Thomas is in London. Julian actually dies of an infernal curse. No body is found - only remains.
2003, "Summer" - Thomas takes over Julian's business and inherits the fire house (with bookstore below).
2003, "Fall" - Thomas discovers Julian's secret and starts to learn magic from Julian's journals and the House spirit, Sir William.
2006, "Spring" - Thomas meets Natalya Poriskaya on a case of demonic possession.
2006, "Summer" - Thomas meets Natalya again and they begin to date.
2007, "Winter" - Thomas asks Natalya to marry him, but this starts a huge problem between the Gypsy families and Thomas. Wizards and Gypsies are in the middle of a supernatural cold war and so the engagement is called off (at least publically).
2007, "Spring" - Natalya is killed in the cross-fire between Thomas and a man using Infernal magic.
2008, Spring - Mouse, Natalya's younger brother, jumps off a four-story building and dies.
(story begins)
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Vampire Eyes
The eyes of a vampire are unique, rather than being a single point of black at the center like a human or the slits of a cat, there are actually three 'slits'. These slits allow them to see more in lower levels of light.Vampires in the world of Thomas Book fall into two categories: ruthless killing machines and cunning predators. Their nature all depends on how they were converted. If a newly born vampire is forced to seek his own first kill after conversion, they will tend to rely upon their instincts and become little more than a beast. If a vampire is able to 'ease in' to their first kill (captured prey) then they tend to retain some of their humanity.
The difference in transformation is thought to be due to the early reliance upon the instinctual drive to hunt and feed. The longer the person has to rely upon those urges, the less of their humanity is retained.
Thomas Blackthorn - Index
Note:
Originally, these posts were under the name "Thomas Blackthorn". I have decided to change the name of the main character to "Thomas Book" and use the name 'Blackthorn' for the pulp fiction stories set in the 1920's.
The world of Thomas Book is influenced by the writings of Jim Butcher's Dresden Files, the Hellboy series and Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere.
Magic is real but dangerous. There are still things that go bump in the night and it's a dangerous place.
Full Story: Thomas Book and the Curse of the Key (working title)
Part 1: A Funeral for Mouse
Part 2: Delivery for the Dead
Part 3: Blood-Stained Journal
Originally, these posts were under the name "Thomas Blackthorn". I have decided to change the name of the main character to "Thomas Book" and use the name 'Blackthorn' for the pulp fiction stories set in the 1920's.
The world of Thomas Book is influenced by the writings of Jim Butcher's Dresden Files, the Hellboy series and Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere.
Magic is real but dangerous. There are still things that go bump in the night and it's a dangerous place.
Full Story: Thomas Book and the Curse of the Key (working title)
Part 1: A Funeral for Mouse
Part 2: Delivery for the Dead
Part 3: Blood-Stained Journal
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Thomas Blackthorn, Part 2
Thomas Book is an Urban Mage; that is he sells his magic to the highest bidder.
Click Here for Part 1: A Gypsy Funeral
Edited from 4/14/08
The guy stood there, caught. Well, he was almost more of a kid than a guy. He had somehow gotten upstairs and was standing in my office. That was a mistake.
My apartment was on the second floor of the fire house that I had inherited from my uncle Julian and my office was in the back, right corner. It was where Julian kept his journals and all of the rare books he had collected over the years. It was a combination study and library with bookshelves lining three of the four walls and a display of artifacts on the fourth. It was my study; my space.
How did he get in?
This kid had to have crawled up the fire escape or something. I don't have much for anyone to steal; nothing worth much to anyone outside the Trade. You don't really see many people trying to steal rare books - there are a lot of things that are easier to steal and easier to sell. I was expecting Marco to send me a message, but sending a kid was something unexpected. He was too clean to be a street-rat and didn't have the look of a junkie. This threw me; enough that my mind blanked. Maybe he was here for a book? Well, he found one; Me.
"Who sent you?"
It was all that I could ask. As stupid as it sounds it was still a legitimate question. If he was one of Marco's boys then I figured that he was here with some kind of message. He started to move rather than answer my question and I chose to make my intentions clear. Cocking the hammer on a pistol is the universal gesture for Don't Move.
He raised his hands in the counter gesture of Don't Shoot. That's when I saw the mark. On the inside of his left wrist was a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, but an alchemical symbol; sulfur. The symbol was easy to identify for anyone of the Walden Witches who had picked up a book on alchemy, let alone anyone in the Trade. It was a combination of symbols; a cross with not one line but two across the center bar - the bottom line wider than the top. At the bottom of the center bar was a figure-eight set where the two orbs meet at their intersection. The presence of the symbol could mean anything - he could be marked by a cult, a gothy, high-school click, or worse.
As much as he was shocked at being caught, he was twice as confused by my question. He looked from my eyes to the muzzle of the pistol, back to my eyes and then to a window nearest the fire escape. I didn't want to shoot him, but I didn't want to let him leave until I found out if he had stolen something.
The end of the hall was the access door for circular fire escape. He glanced around nervously for a way out and I stepped into the room from the doorway as I cupped the butt of the pistol with my left hand like I had seen on all of the cop shows. I wasn't the best shot in the world but I was hoping that he wouldn't figure that out. Just then, as the edge of his vest hung up on the strap of his satchel I could see the edge of a red, leather journal tucked into his belt.
That was reason enough for me to blow a hole in someone. I know people have their reasons to steal, but grabbing a journal is about the most serious sin I could imagine. The only reason I didn't shoot first and ask some questions of his ghost was that he was standing between me and a parchment fragment framed on the wall. I was such a bad shot that I might accidentally shoot through the kid.
He looked like he might try and run so I cocked the pistol's hammer; universal language for 'don't move'.
"I got something from Mouse," he said with a lilt of fear and trembling in his voice.
"Mouse is dead. Keep talking." I responded; the mask of confidence and authority becoming tainted with the fresh memory of the funeral.
"You're Book, right? Mouse said to bring this to you if anything happened to him." The kid explained and tried to reach for the edge of the journal.
I didn't know if was on the level or not so I barked out a warning that I would shoot him if he tried anything.
Just then, as carefully pulled the journal from his belt, the tinkle of silver bells filled the room. As though a dozen wind chimes had suddenly been hit by the same gust of wind at the same time, the room was filled with a silvery cacophony. One of my protective wards had been tripped.
Something was trying to push its way into the fire house.
Then it hit me, if the boy had meant me harm there would already be the sound of the tiny silver bells ringing as soon as I got inside. Even half-soaked as I was, I wouldn't have missed such a warning. What was going on?
"Thomas," the voice of my tutor beckoned from a mirror on the wall behind me. "We are under attack.
"Who is that?" the boy asked pointing to the form of a man
who appeared only in the reflection of the mirror on the wall of antiques behind me.
"Who is this?" Sir William, my tutor, asked with the same, imperious tone he once used for his students back at Oxford; Oxford in 1732.
"I don't know. What's coming?" I asked as I twitched the barrel of the pistol in my hand to signal the boy to have a seat.
"You, what's your name?" I asked as I eased the pistol's hammer down.
"Wyck," he answered and watched the reflection in the mirror - wondering how he was shown there yet there was no person in the room.
"Can't you people have normal names for a change?" Sir William groaned.
"Sir William?" I asked as I reached for the wooden staff that rested against the window behind my desk.
A storm was coming yet there were no clouds. Just as rain had appeared to mark Mouse's funeral, the darkness of a coming storm had blotted out the sun over my house. The windows grew dark and the wind began to whistle outside. The breathy whistle twisted in its pitch to become a whirr and then into a wooshy howl.
"Tornado?" Wyck asked as he stuffed the burnt-red, leather journal into his satchel but remained seated and finally drew his eyes off of the mirror.
"By the air. This is no spell Thomas. Something is in the wind." The tutor explained.
"Lilitu," Wyck muttered as though he were figuring out a cross-words puzzle.
"Be silent boy!" Sir William commanded.
"Don't be saying the names of things you don't know nothing about kid." I grumbled as I held the staff defensively across my chest.
Once I had calmed my mind a bit, I focused my thoughts on the energies of my staff and the protective wards around the fire house. Once I had the right image caught in my mind I slammed the butt of the staff into the wooden floor of my office as though I were driving a nail. Well, that's almost what I was doing. I needed to drive the energy around me through my staff straight through the floors of the building until it reached the bedrock below. Once it hit real earth it could fan out to each of the four hearth stones that uncle Julian had buried at the four corners that marked north, south, east and west. They were my own, personal, magical claymores.
The wind's howl began to drown out almost every other sound though I could still hear Wyck's voice cursing his luck over and over again. The boy left the chair he was sitting in and curled up in a ball away from any of the windows. I couldn't stop what I was doing to stop him but he wasn't going any where. I needed to focus on the defenses.
It wasn't something that I could call up all the time, but Julian's journals described the stones as a 'rainy day weapon'; something to only be used one in a great while since it took so long for them to recharge. As soon as the energy reached the stones they erupted in a torrent of arcane energy. Whatever supernatural darkness that had surrounded my home ate the magical equivalent of a dozen lightning bolts. With the shriek of pain and defeat, the darkness faded with the suddenness of a summer shower.
"Fuck..." Wyck commented as he slowly opened his eyes and relaxed his muscles.
I had to force my fingers to let go of the staff I was holding on so tight. I hadn't used the stones before and I severely underestimated how much juice they needed to work. I was all but exhausted as I turned to look at the boy. I noticed that steam was rising off of my forearms and chest; the result of channeling so much energy through my staff. I didn't have the energy to fight with Wyck and thankfully I could see he was more afraid of what was outside than what was inside.
"Start talking kid..." I put the staff back against the corner of the window next to the bookcase and eased myself into my chair. Just to make sure that I wasn't finished with him, I clapped the pistol on my desk and rested my chin on my fist.
This was going to be an interesting story.
**END**
Chapter 3 to come.
Click Here for Part 1: A Gypsy Funeral
Edited from 4/14/08
The guy stood there, caught. Well, he was almost more of a kid than a guy. He had somehow gotten upstairs and was standing in my office. That was a mistake.
My apartment was on the second floor of the fire house that I had inherited from my uncle Julian and my office was in the back, right corner. It was where Julian kept his journals and all of the rare books he had collected over the years. It was a combination study and library with bookshelves lining three of the four walls and a display of artifacts on the fourth. It was my study; my space.
How did he get in?
This kid had to have crawled up the fire escape or something. I don't have much for anyone to steal; nothing worth much to anyone outside the Trade. You don't really see many people trying to steal rare books - there are a lot of things that are easier to steal and easier to sell. I was expecting Marco to send me a message, but sending a kid was something unexpected. He was too clean to be a street-rat and didn't have the look of a junkie. This threw me; enough that my mind blanked. Maybe he was here for a book? Well, he found one; Me.
"Who sent you?"
It was all that I could ask. As stupid as it sounds it was still a legitimate question. If he was one of Marco's boys then I figured that he was here with some kind of message. He started to move rather than answer my question and I chose to make my intentions clear. Cocking the hammer on a pistol is the universal gesture for Don't Move.He raised his hands in the counter gesture of Don't Shoot. That's when I saw the mark. On the inside of his left wrist was a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, but an alchemical symbol; sulfur. The symbol was easy to identify for anyone of the Walden Witches who had picked up a book on alchemy, let alone anyone in the Trade. It was a combination of symbols; a cross with not one line but two across the center bar - the bottom line wider than the top. At the bottom of the center bar was a figure-eight set where the two orbs meet at their intersection. The presence of the symbol could mean anything - he could be marked by a cult, a gothy, high-school click, or worse.
As much as he was shocked at being caught, he was twice as confused by my question. He looked from my eyes to the muzzle of the pistol, back to my eyes and then to a window nearest the fire escape. I didn't want to shoot him, but I didn't want to let him leave until I found out if he had stolen something.
The end of the hall was the access door for circular fire escape. He glanced around nervously for a way out and I stepped into the room from the doorway as I cupped the butt of the pistol with my left hand like I had seen on all of the cop shows. I wasn't the best shot in the world but I was hoping that he wouldn't figure that out. Just then, as the edge of his vest hung up on the strap of his satchel I could see the edge of a red, leather journal tucked into his belt.
That was reason enough for me to blow a hole in someone. I know people have their reasons to steal, but grabbing a journal is about the most serious sin I could imagine. The only reason I didn't shoot first and ask some questions of his ghost was that he was standing between me and a parchment fragment framed on the wall. I was such a bad shot that I might accidentally shoot through the kid.
He looked like he might try and run so I cocked the pistol's hammer; universal language for 'don't move'.
"I got something from Mouse," he said with a lilt of fear and trembling in his voice.
"Mouse is dead. Keep talking." I responded; the mask of confidence and authority becoming tainted with the fresh memory of the funeral.
"You're Book, right? Mouse said to bring this to you if anything happened to him." The kid explained and tried to reach for the edge of the journal.
I didn't know if was on the level or not so I barked out a warning that I would shoot him if he tried anything.
Just then, as carefully pulled the journal from his belt, the tinkle of silver bells filled the room. As though a dozen wind chimes had suddenly been hit by the same gust of wind at the same time, the room was filled with a silvery cacophony. One of my protective wards had been tripped.
Something was trying to push its way into the fire house.
Then it hit me, if the boy had meant me harm there would already be the sound of the tiny silver bells ringing as soon as I got inside. Even half-soaked as I was, I wouldn't have missed such a warning. What was going on?
"Thomas," the voice of my tutor beckoned from a mirror on the wall behind me. "We are under attack.
"Who is that?" the boy asked pointing to the form of a man
who appeared only in the reflection of the mirror on the wall of antiques behind me."Who is this?" Sir William, my tutor, asked with the same, imperious tone he once used for his students back at Oxford; Oxford in 1732.
"I don't know. What's coming?" I asked as I twitched the barrel of the pistol in my hand to signal the boy to have a seat.
"You, what's your name?" I asked as I eased the pistol's hammer down.
"Wyck," he answered and watched the reflection in the mirror - wondering how he was shown there yet there was no person in the room.
"Can't you people have normal names for a change?" Sir William groaned.
"Sir William?" I asked as I reached for the wooden staff that rested against the window behind my desk.
A storm was coming yet there were no clouds. Just as rain had appeared to mark Mouse's funeral, the darkness of a coming storm had blotted out the sun over my house. The windows grew dark and the wind began to whistle outside. The breathy whistle twisted in its pitch to become a whirr and then into a wooshy howl.
"Tornado?" Wyck asked as he stuffed the burnt-red, leather journal into his satchel but remained seated and finally drew his eyes off of the mirror.
"By the air. This is no spell Thomas. Something is in the wind." The tutor explained.
"Lilitu," Wyck muttered as though he were figuring out a cross-words puzzle.
"Be silent boy!" Sir William commanded.
"Don't be saying the names of things you don't know nothing about kid." I grumbled as I held the staff defensively across my chest.
Once I had calmed my mind a bit, I focused my thoughts on the energies of my staff and the protective wards around the fire house. Once I had the right image caught in my mind I slammed the butt of the staff into the wooden floor of my office as though I were driving a nail. Well, that's almost what I was doing. I needed to drive the energy around me through my staff straight through the floors of the building until it reached the bedrock below. Once it hit real earth it could fan out to each of the four hearth stones that uncle Julian had buried at the four corners that marked north, south, east and west. They were my own, personal, magical claymores.
The wind's howl began to drown out almost every other sound though I could still hear Wyck's voice cursing his luck over and over again. The boy left the chair he was sitting in and curled up in a ball away from any of the windows. I couldn't stop what I was doing to stop him but he wasn't going any where. I needed to focus on the defenses.
It wasn't something that I could call up all the time, but Julian's journals described the stones as a 'rainy day weapon'; something to only be used one in a great while since it took so long for them to recharge. As soon as the energy reached the stones they erupted in a torrent of arcane energy. Whatever supernatural darkness that had surrounded my home ate the magical equivalent of a dozen lightning bolts. With the shriek of pain and defeat, the darkness faded with the suddenness of a summer shower.
"Fuck..." Wyck commented as he slowly opened his eyes and relaxed his muscles.
I had to force my fingers to let go of the staff I was holding on so tight. I hadn't used the stones before and I severely underestimated how much juice they needed to work. I was all but exhausted as I turned to look at the boy. I noticed that steam was rising off of my forearms and chest; the result of channeling so much energy through my staff. I didn't have the energy to fight with Wyck and thankfully I could see he was more afraid of what was outside than what was inside.
"Start talking kid..." I put the staff back against the corner of the window next to the bookcase and eased myself into my chair. Just to make sure that I wasn't finished with him, I clapped the pistol on my desk and rested my chin on my fist.
This was going to be an interesting story.
**END**
Chapter 3 to come.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Thomas Blackthorn
Thomas Book is an Urban Mage; that is he sells his magic to the highest bidder. About a year ago, he was expelled from the Council, the "Power Players" of Metro's Magical community, after he killed one of them. Though it was eventually proven that the killing was justified, he was no longer welcomed amongst them.
2. Investigation of the boy's death.
3. Discovery of a Thief.
4. Problems with the Church
5. Another Witch Hunt
With the eyes of the Sheriff and his Wardens on him constantly, he walks a narrow line in the dark allies of Metro. Without the connections of the Council to keep him financially afloat, he has had to dip his toes into some murky waters; Vampires, Vengeful Spirits, and Vagabond alike. Unlike the Council members, Thomas does not live in luxury with a gaggle of servants to maintain him. Most of his wealth was stripped from him by the vulturous harpies in the Council as soon as he lost his standing. Their curses were flung as freely as their insults and within a few weeks he was thought to be broken. He managed to escape with a few bucks, a broken-down, old building and a few books of magic.
EDIT (Ignore anything in red. It's old or just notes to me)
ORIGINAL
NEW (this should be read as part of the story)
Part 1EDIT (Ignore anything in red. It's old or just notes to me)
ORIGINAL
NEW (this should be read as part of the story)
A Funeral
Funerals. I hate funerals. They always remind me of her.
Some funerals are full of alcohol, others are full of wives and mothers throwing themselves at the coffin screaming and pleading with their God. Some people say that funerals are times of reflection and when families come together, but what do you do when you have no family? The only real family that a Wizard has are the few friends he makes on his journey. Even still, being a Wizard is like being in a Fraternity; you're only Brothers when there's drinking and parties. As soon as it gets rough, you find out who's got your back. Funerals reminded me exactly how few people had mine.
I was surprised that I got the invitation. I knew that Mouse had died, but I didn't expect this. Mouse was Nat's cousin so I guess it was a invitation based on tradition and formality than familiarity. Natalya's grandmother, a woman whose influence could be felt in almost every corner of the family, made the invitation in her own name. She was one of the few people in the family that didn't blame me for Nat's death. She knew what I did and why I did it without ever being told.
As soon as they pulled the casket from the back of the car, I felt the first drops of rain on my face. The storm clouds didn't appear on any forecast and I'm sure that all of the local news stations would be baffled why it rained over only one part of the city. If there was every any doubt, the rain had proclaimed the nature of the boy's death. Mouse had been murdered.
The motley bunch of mourners were gathered around the pit dug in the corner of the cemetery. Fifty people gathered around as the rain began to swell in the clouds. The old women with their floral scarves and carpet bags could have stepped out of a village in Eastern Europe. The old men, what few there were, stood beside them like scarecrows with big black umbrellas. I could see that almost everyone there had a small bag to be placed as a gift to Mouse for his journey to the Other Side. I saw bags with clothes, some food and I think one even was going to give him new pair of shoes. The Gypsy were always such practical people.
Since I was here as a guest of Baba's invitation, I didn't know quite where to stand for the funeral. I've always been more of a fringe-watcher than someone who jumps into the middle of things. I was content to stay at the edge and pay my respects - and then Baba appeared beside me. I'm not going to tell you that I jumped. That would be a lie.
I squeaked
My well-rehearsed icy exterior was disrupted by a five-foot nothing old woman who has never spoken more than two words in English. That tough old broad fought the Nazis. I swear it. She was as quiet as a fart in church. She just smiled and extended her old, grandmotherly hand for me to take and with the force of a team of oxen, dragged me over to stand beside the grave. She made it a point to involve me and the others wouldn't question it - not directly. So I found a spot beside a guy that had the smile of an insurance salesman and a woman who was incredibly too tanned for April and reeked of cheap perfume; it's that new fragrance - Bad Taste.
By the time they had the small, white casket arranged for their final fair-the-well, I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. The rain was already soaking through my overcoat, but it wasn't the cold water that I felt. It was a presence. Someone or something had gotten close enough for me to pick up the ripples. Granny Baba felt it too. Before I could really get a sense for what was pinging on my magical radar, she had pulled a small, draw-string bag from her purse and sprinkled something over the grave. I don't know if the family knew what she was doing, but it was Baba - she was from the Old Country and no one questioned her mojo.
Gypsy magic was NEVER to be ignored. The Rom had been fighting spirits and demons centuries before the inqusition and had managed to survive even the cleansing fires of the Church. Whatever it was that Grandmother Baba had sprinkled on the grave was probably some kind of protective blessing - the same ones that all grandmothers have I'm sure; the gypsy simply do it with more flair. I smelled lavender and something that reminded me of week-old laundry, but whatever it was made the 'blip' go away. After the first few shovels of dirt were tossed into the grave, I took my cue and turned to leave. Marco, one of Natalya's brother, gave me a dirty look and muttered some Romani insult under his breath. He couldn't publicly say anything to me while at the funeral - especially while under Baba's watchful eyes, but I knew that he'd love to break something over my head if he were to ever catch me out and alone.
Just as I was getting into the Jeep, I saw something shiny on the steering wheel and paused. Someone in my line of work doesn't do anything without some degree of paranoia. Sticking into my steering wheel was a square nail; like the old ones used to shoe horses. This one was silver; an old Gypsy ward against witches and Magi. Though not all of the wards from the Old Country still worked, nailing a witch's footprint with a silver nail was one of those that still packed quite a sting.
I glanced over towards Marco and the other brothers that were watching like a pack of dogs, snickeringly eager to see if their message was received. I would have liked nothing more than to fling a little of my own mojo at them, but the family didn't deserve it. Marco would step over the line sometime and Granny Baba wouldn't mind if I put him back in his place. I took the nail and stuffed it into my pocket and drove away from the graveyard and within a minute or two I was out of the rain. Handy thing, too. My jeep liked to leak.
UPDATE: 4-09-08
You would think that a Mage would be able to repair a leaky jeep-top with a flap of a finger, but not all magic works that way. Besides, magic can get addictive. If I start using it to repair every little thing that has gone wrong in my life - I'd be worse than a crack-addict. Duct tape is just as good as any spell, sometimes better. I had taped the tear in the cover a week ago and I thought that it was going to hold until I could get paid by Mr. Tweed. I love antique dealers - they're so twitchy about hauntings and they pay well. Payday was in two days - according to his secretary, so I just had to coast along until then. By the third stop-light, I had gotten past the mourning clouds around the grave yard and back to clear skies. The jeep would dry out eventually.
My jacket and shirt were soaked, and all I could think of was grabbing a shower. The smell of the graveyard was still on me as I pulled into the old firehouse that I called home. Natalya has been gone for almost a year now and I remember it all; the smell of the fresh dirt around the grave, and the thud of the rain on all of the umbrellas. It was the same sound today. Why do sounds like that always stick with us?
I was half out of my shirt when I heard something break in the back of the apartment.
"Six?"
My cat had a tough life. When Nat got him, she said that it was the number on his cage. I said that it was the number of lives that he had burnt through. According to the vet, he had been poisoned with antifreeze, electrocuted, and shot at least once. I'm fairly certain that if there was a nuclear holocaust, the few things left alive would include cockroaches, twinkies, New York rats and Six. He was great for naps. He was so mellow, orange and so round that he could pass for a buddha statue.
I heard it again and I knew that it was a lot bigger than a cat. With the appearance of a 'something' at the funeral and Marco's warning, it could have been anything. I wasn't going to take any chances. Crossing from the top of the stairs to a hall table, I found my insurance and tried to sneak closer.
Magi are practical folk. Traditionalists get burned at the stake. Living through two Witch Wars had taught me that if you rely on magic to save your life, you're not long for this world.
My insurance was in the form of an antique Colt revolver. It only had six shots but it had never missed what it was pointed at; at least that's what the ghost said when I got it. My insurance was always kept loaded. I never understood the logic of having an unloaded gun in your home.
With each step, I found myself hoping that it was Marco. I -wanted- it to be him. Dropping a nail on me is one thing, breaking into my home was crossing the line. I couldn't think of what would be worse: having him arrested or taking him to Baba for punishment. When I got close enough to see what it was, I was disappointed. It wasn't Marco. It wasn't a wraith either.
It was a kid, barely older than the one that I just saw buried.
Funerals. I hate funerals. They always remind me of her.
Some funerals are full of alcohol, others are full of wives and mothers throwing themselves at the coffin screaming and pleading with their God. Some people say that funerals are times of reflection and when families come together, but what do you do when you have no family? The only real family that a Wizard has are the few friends he makes on his journey. Even still, being a Wizard is like being in a Fraternity; you're only Brothers when there's drinking and parties. As soon as it gets rough, you find out who's got your back. Funerals reminded me exactly how few people had mine.
I was surprised that I got the invitation. I knew that Mouse had died, but I didn't expect this. Mouse was Nat's cousin so I guess it was a invitation based on tradition and formality than familiarity. Natalya's grandmother, a woman whose influence could be felt in almost every corner of the family, made the invitation in her own name. She was one of the few people in the family that didn't blame me for Nat's death. She knew what I did and why I did it without ever being told.
As soon as they pulled the casket from the back of the car, I felt the first drops of rain on my face. The storm clouds didn't appear on any forecast and I'm sure that all of the local news stations would be baffled why it rained over only one part of the city. If there was every any doubt, the rain had proclaimed the nature of the boy's death. Mouse had been murdered.
The motley bunch of mourners were gathered around the pit dug in the corner of the cemetery. Fifty people gathered around as the rain began to swell in the clouds. The old women with their floral scarves and carpet bags could have stepped out of a village in Eastern Europe. The old men, what few there were, stood beside them like scarecrows with big black umbrellas. I could see that almost everyone there had a small bag to be placed as a gift to Mouse for his journey to the Other Side. I saw bags with clothes, some food and I think one even was going to give him new pair of shoes. The Gypsy were always such practical people.Since I was here as a guest of Baba's invitation, I didn't know quite where to stand for the funeral. I've always been more of a fringe-watcher than someone who jumps into the middle of things. I was content to stay at the edge and pay my respects - and then Baba appeared beside me. I'm not going to tell you that I jumped. That would be a lie.
I squeaked
My well-rehearsed icy exterior was disrupted by a five-foot nothing old woman who has never spoken more than two words in English. That tough old broad fought the Nazis. I swear it. She was as quiet as a fart in church. She just smiled and extended her old, grandmotherly hand for me to take and with the force of a team of oxen, dragged me over to stand beside the grave. She made it a point to involve me and the others wouldn't question it - not directly. So I found a spot beside a guy that had the smile of an insurance salesman and a woman who was incredibly too tanned for April and reeked of cheap perfume; it's that new fragrance - Bad Taste.
By the time they had the small, white casket arranged for their final fair-the-well, I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. The rain was already soaking through my overcoat, but it wasn't the cold water that I felt. It was a presence. Someone or something had gotten close enough for me to pick up the ripples. Granny Baba felt it too. Before I could really get a sense for what was pinging on my magical radar, she had pulled a small, draw-string bag from her purse and sprinkled something over the grave. I don't know if the family knew what she was doing, but it was Baba - she was from the Old Country and no one questioned her mojo.
Gypsy magic was NEVER to be ignored. The Rom had been fighting spirits and demons centuries before the inqusition and had managed to survive even the cleansing fires of the Church. Whatever it was that Grandmother Baba had sprinkled on the grave was probably some kind of protective blessing - the same ones that all grandmothers have I'm sure; the gypsy simply do it with more flair. I smelled lavender and something that reminded me of week-old laundry, but whatever it was made the 'blip' go away. After the first few shovels of dirt were tossed into the grave, I took my cue and turned to leave. Marco, one of Natalya's brother, gave me a dirty look and muttered some Romani insult under his breath. He couldn't publicly say anything to me while at the funeral - especially while under Baba's watchful eyes, but I knew that he'd love to break something over my head if he were to ever catch me out and alone.
Just as I was getting into the Jeep, I saw something shiny on the steering wheel and paused. Someone in my line of work doesn't do anything without some degree of paranoia. Sticking into my steering wheel was a square nail; like the old ones used to shoe horses. This one was silver; an old Gypsy ward against witches and Magi. Though not all of the wards from the Old Country still worked, nailing a witch's footprint with a silver nail was one of those that still packed quite a sting.I glanced over towards Marco and the other brothers that were watching like a pack of dogs, snickeringly eager to see if their message was received. I would have liked nothing more than to fling a little of my own mojo at them, but the family didn't deserve it. Marco would step over the line sometime and Granny Baba wouldn't mind if I put him back in his place. I took the nail and stuffed it into my pocket and drove away from the graveyard and within a minute or two I was out of the rain. Handy thing, too. My jeep liked to leak.
UPDATE: 4-09-08
You would think that a Mage would be able to repair a leaky jeep-top with a flap of a finger, but not all magic works that way. Besides, magic can get addictive. If I start using it to repair every little thing that has gone wrong in my life - I'd be worse than a crack-addict. Duct tape is just as good as any spell, sometimes better. I had taped the tear in the cover a week ago and I thought that it was going to hold until I could get paid by Mr. Tweed. I love antique dealers - they're so twitchy about hauntings and they pay well. Payday was in two days - according to his secretary, so I just had to coast along until then. By the third stop-light, I had gotten past the mourning clouds around the grave yard and back to clear skies. The jeep would dry out eventually.
My jacket and shirt were soaked, and all I could think of was grabbing a shower. The smell of the graveyard was still on me as I pulled into the old firehouse that I called home. Natalya has been gone for almost a year now and I remember it all; the smell of the fresh dirt around the grave, and the thud of the rain on all of the umbrellas. It was the same sound today. Why do sounds like that always stick with us?
I was half out of my shirt when I heard something break in the back of the apartment.
"Six?"
My cat had a tough life. When Nat got him, she said that it was the number on his cage. I said that it was the number of lives that he had burnt through. According to the vet, he had been poisoned with antifreeze, electrocuted, and shot at least once. I'm fairly certain that if there was a nuclear holocaust, the few things left alive would include cockroaches, twinkies, New York rats and Six. He was great for naps. He was so mellow, orange and so round that he could pass for a buddha statue.
I heard it again and I knew that it was a lot bigger than a cat. With the appearance of a 'something' at the funeral and Marco's warning, it could have been anything. I wasn't going to take any chances. Crossing from the top of the stairs to a hall table, I found my insurance and tried to sneak closer.Magi are practical folk. Traditionalists get burned at the stake. Living through two Witch Wars had taught me that if you rely on magic to save your life, you're not long for this world.
My insurance was in the form of an antique Colt revolver. It only had six shots but it had never missed what it was pointed at; at least that's what the ghost said when I got it. My insurance was always kept loaded. I never understood the logic of having an unloaded gun in your home.With each step, I found myself hoping that it was Marco. I -wanted- it to be him. Dropping a nail on me is one thing, breaking into my home was crossing the line. I couldn't think of what would be worse: having him arrested or taking him to Baba for punishment. When I got close enough to see what it was, I was disappointed. It wasn't Marco. It wasn't a wraith either.
It was a kid, barely older than the one that I just saw buried.
2. Investigation of the boy's death.
3. Discovery of a Thief.
4. Problems with the Church
5. Another Witch Hunt
Monday, March 31, 2008
Stone & Stream
In the hills above "the village" lies a stone circle. The circle of stones is situated on a small island in a crescent-shaped recess of three waterfalls.
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